The diamond on your finger felt burdensome that evening, as though the very jewel itself burned a hole straight through your flesh, until it scraped across the bone beneath. The delicate gemstone that twinkled in the faintest glimmer of light, suddenly weighed down upon your hand, until it nearly felt as though it might all but give out if you attempted to lift it. The band of smooth gold felt tighter than it ever had before, as it wrapped around your fourth finger like the thick base of a noose, coiling harsher around your finger until you could very nearly feel the beating of your pulse in the suffocated flesh right at your fingertip. The stone, beautifully cut and hand picked by the man who had gifted it to you years back, suddenly feeling anything but light.

It felt insurmountably heavy, a burden within it's iridescent shimmer, that felt as though you wore not a ring symbolizing marriage and a single commitment to the one man you had ever loved, but rather a rock thrusted upon your hand, weighing you down with a strength that nearly threatened to force you to the ground right there on your knees.

Thomas Shelby's study burned with a harsh orange glow, illuminated by the lamp sitting in place upon his large wooden desk, bathing the overwhelming walls in an unforgiving hue of citrine that resembled more of a burnt orange flame. A light that was surely doing damage to his eyesight, as he subjected himself to more hours in the confines of such saturated and poor lighting than he did in the light of pure day.

Even with the glasses he'd been forced to wear ever since his nearly life-ending injury a year back, sitting strewn across papers that cluttered the surface of his desk, could do little to heal the ache the dim light exposed to his eyes. It was a cast of light that even managed to burn your own sight, as you'd spent infrequent time in the dense shadows of his study in the hours when sleep managed to find you, the strain was evident in your weary eyes as you stood amongst the all-consuming burn of futile light.

The night was silent beyond that of the vastly stretched windows, covered by the cascading curtains that closed out the evidence of another day put to rest, casting aside the softest sliver of a pale pearl moonlight. The warm wood of Tommy's office, the deep tones absorbing the dark citrine glow, nearly emphasizing the impact of such shadows and painful warmth within the interior of his study.

For as the night whispered not a single sound, it felt as though the tall walls that engulfed your small and meek frame, all but consumed the void that lingered in an unnerving silence around you. The sky that had soaked up every last ounce of lingering light left behind from the day, remained utterly silent because the walls and bookshelves that encased you, felt as though they had captured all of the words thrown within it's confines. Absorbing the tones that lingered in the atmosphere like an impending storm cloud, clutching tightly to the words so that they could simply echo them back in hushed whispers that swirled relentlessly around you.

The tension was palpable in the atmosphere, that stung with the strong stench of continuously burning tobacco and the powerful tones of Tommy's cologne, that managed to permeate every room he entered. It filled your lungs with unease with each shallow inhale, feeling the way your chest proceeded to tighten the longer you stood within the clutches of a combative and aggressive environment. It pricked along the trail of your flesh, forearms exposed to the warm air that felt unnaturally cold, until your fingers began to shake nervously. Wringing them together over and over again, in front of your chest in an attempt to conceal the trembles, until the whites of your knuckles began to make a presence and the ache became evident in your harsh grasp.

Tommy used you as his verbal punching bag for his frustration that evening. The blow of his words, the impact of his voice, colliding against your heart as if you were simply a sand filled leather bag twirling down from the ceiling above. But you let him, you realized, time after time. You allowed his outrage, no matter how misdirected he knew within himself to be, to pierce it's talons into you, until you could nearly feel the shredding of your flesh. You let him expel all of his frustration in harsh bursts, because you loved him.

But you couldn't help but wonder, for the very first time as you felt yourself begin to drown amidst the deepening abyss of his overwhelming study, just how long you were meant to stand stock-still and absorb his each and every blow. Did loving Tommy Shelby equate to forever being bound to take on his anger, his exasperated frustration, his hurtful and insulting remarks, as marring to your very own foundation?

Tommy's voice, although silent as his lips were pursed together as he hunched over his sleek yet cluttered wooden desk, continued to reverberate against the tall walls. For the echo of his sharp tone, the authority that engulfed his voice and forced his words to expel in a staggeringly strong demeanor, lingered within the atmosphere as though they were merely precipitation awaiting to fall from the accumulated clouds.

The density of such a tension fueled void, was overwhelming, as you listened to the timid patter of your heels against the hardwood beneath your soft steps. Barely audible, but you couldn't decipher if it were due to the atmosphere quickly absorbing the evidence of another's movements, or if it were by your own doing. Tip-toeing into a room you'd visited every single day since you moved into Arrow House before your wedding to Tommy, yet feeling for the very first time, as if you were merely a child caught red handed in the very room that had been labeled off limits.

Tommy still adorned his sophisticated black three piece suit, his tightly wound tie having been discarded long ago however, strewn somewhere within the study to be discovered come the fresh beam of morning light. But even as the fabric was exquisitely tailored to his physique, making him appear breathtakingly handsome in a moment when such a feat was damningly unnecessary, the stress that exuded from his body made the sleek onyx material appear disheveled. A sight not often worn by Tommy Shelby and it appeared out of place.

The tips of your heels faltered as you found yourself steadied between his wide stretching desk and the small drink cart set up to the left. A fair distance from the large wooden doors, now closed as the echo of their deafening bang still echoed in the confines, but leaving a decent amount of paces from where Tommy stood hunched behind his desk. You weren't sure why you had stopped in the very center of the room, as it suddenly felt as if you were cast out at sea, simply bobbing aimlessly until a preserver might just manage to find you amidst the rushing waves. But you couldn't help but wonder, if it was as far as your feet could carry you in that moment. The weight of Tommy's strong and clashing voice still reverberating throughout your head, bouncing off of the surrounding walls, forcing your feet to a halt before you could fully reach him.

There hadn't been many instances since entwining yourself with the infamous Thomas Shelby, that you found yourself nervous within his presence. If anything, he was astonishingly the breath of calm and comfort found in the life you soon found yourself immersed within. But tonight, as your legs felt as fragile as a single twig amidst a wind storm and your fingers shook as though they had been electrocuted by the very same storm, nervousness and unease became you as you stood before your husband.

He was an intimidating man, the ice of his eyes having the profound power to freeze one right where they stood, should he not care for what they had to say. It was a rarity to feel what those who crossed his path might feel, but tonight, you found yourself feeling as though you were a mere stranger to him. A commoner still trudging through the smog engulfed cobblestone streets of Small Heath, insignificant and far beneath the man who had pulled himself up and out of that life by whatever means necessary. You felt like anything but his wife tonight and that alone, was enough to shake your very core.

Swallowing a deep breath, loose fragments of a breath trickling into your expanding lungs, as you felt the lump of something thick and suffocating push back down your throat, you spoke up softly. Breaking through the void that had built like a brick wall in the atmosphere, since Tommy's last bout of dismissive and patronizing remarks faded in the moments ticked past, responding to the ache that they left behind in their cold affect on your heart.

"I know today was not what you wished it to be," You broached ever so carefully, feeling as though you were holding a live wire in your fingers, with cutters in the opposite hand, knowing that the very slip of your grasp and it was sure to detonate. "and that you have hardly slept this week or had a mere moment to breathe, but I won't have you speaking to me like this Tommy."

It was then, as your words descended upon Tommy's senses and pierced through the dense void like a hurdling bullet, that you knew the wire in your hand was always going to be a trick wire. It was always going to go off, one way or another, it was only with your timid but bravery fueled words, that forced the reaction to be moved up to this very moment. For Tommy's head that hung with a casting shadow over strewn papers, snapped up and his fingers that gripped the edges of his desk, tightened with a strength that you feared in that moment might just snap the seemingly impenetrable wood in half.

The lump returned to the base of your throat, nearly cutting off the trail of oxygen down into your lungs as Tommy's orbs of icy cerulean blue locked upon your own. For it felt as though they tore straight into you the moment they touched upon your sight, their strength unwavering and all-consuming. Tommy's brows rose a fraction as the blue of his irises deepened, the only movement shown as he clutched tighter to his desk but had yet to stand up straight, as he regarded you with a domineering expression.

"Oh you won't, ey?" You knew that tone, the condescending hushed tone that could send more shivers down your spine than the trailing finger of death itself. "what are you going to do about it?"

Your throat ached to swallow, but suddenly, there appeared to be not a single breath, not a single inhale that could push it's way through. As if your throat all but locked up, forcing you to stand there slowly suffocating on your weak breath and the lump growing larger with each agonizingly passing second.

"What the fuck are you gonna do," Tommy's arched brows had since resumed their furrowed stance upon his oppressing expression. The flesh between his brows bunching in tight lines as he regarded you sternly, his voice still trailing along the hushed and unnerving line of condescension. "if I keep standing here, berating you for not being the fucking pretty little wife who keeps her goddamn mouth shut, ey?"

You knew for certain in that moment, that if you had had any semblance of a breath at all, that his words snatched it from the pit of your lungs and claimed it as his own. For you felt it all banish from your body, his cold words engulfed in a callous tone, startling you beyond belief and with it, knocking the wind from your chest. Tommy Shelby's voice didn't often raise but his tone, that could sharpen as though it were the very edge of a razor blade. Cutting and slashing through until his words struck the depth of your chest with the fear of God itself.

A sharp scraping against the floorboards caused you to jump slightly, as Tommy stood abruptly from his slouched stance and knocked the leg of the chair behind him. You thought he appeared intimidating before, but watching him stand full height as his shadow descended upon his desk and the surrounding floorboards like he was the growing darkness of night, you suddenly wished for the floors to open up beneath you and pull you away from his cast of overwhelming scrutiny.

Tommy took a slight step forward, as his fist unclenched and reached towards the tumbler sitting beside the harshly glowing lamp. "What'll you do if I scream my bloody lungs out at ya till the walls shake and the glass in me hand shatters aye, what the fuck are you gonna do about it then?"

Tommy's words roared in the all-consuming void and although Tommy didn't scare you, tonight, in this very moment, he came rather close. It was unnerving the way his voice barely shifted a peg, hardly climbing even as his voice managed to reverberate around you, as if you stood immersed within an echo chamber. But perhaps, in that moment, you found yourself wishing that Tommy would raise his voice. That he would yell, throw his words into the air with a harsh and slashing breath, making them echo inside of the confines of his study, all so that in turn, you might just raise your own voice back. But instead, you felt small and insignificant and couldn't lift your voice even if you tried.

You were surprised when the tumbler holding Tommy's amber Irish Whiskey didn't shatter upon impact, as he slammed it back down against his desk. Releasing it from his tight grasp, one in which could've smashed the delicate china if he'd only tightened once more, and lifted his hand. His fist harsh and unrelenting, as he pointed his finger at you, as though you were one of the many men he'd scolded throughout his days. As if you were no longer his wife in that moment, not even a woman, but a blinder or one of his brothers whose mess he'd had to fix.

"If you don't like the way I bloody talk or the words I have to say," Tommy's furrowed brows rose again, bunching the flesh of his forehead and making the overwhelming blue of his eyes stand even bolder than they once were. His tone cut through your flesh, having shredded the lace accented dress that flowed down your frame in a softened hue of emerald, feeling as the menace lacing his words attack against the thundering beat of your vulnerable heart. "then get the fuck out!"

Tommy's finger that pointed straight at your chest as though it were a dagger aimed at your heart, lifted a mere fraction to gesture towards the large set of wooden doors closed behind you. "Go on then, if you don't like how I'm talking to you, then fuck off!"

The atmosphere felt dead in that very moment, as Tommy's words were engulfed by the dense void and recirculated over and over again, only to puncture your heart repeatedly as though they continued to fall from his lips. You could barely breathe, having clutched tightly to the last semblance of a breath in your lungs, that was now more carbon dioxide than clarifying oxygen. Your head thundered as if the storm that brewed and descended within Thomas's study, had unleashed it's wicked vibrations within the cavity of your mind. But it was the burn of fresh tears, pricking your eyesight like the tip of an acid laced needle, that forced your eyes to flutter closed and your head to drop.

Tommy had since looked away, having pointed to the doors, dismissing you and the notion of your very existence to him in that instance. He'd turned back to his desk, the flurry of papers strewn across his desk with business that needed his attention. His stance returning to the hunched over position, as he'd yet to reach for the chair pushed behind him and you wondered if he'd even notice you had left the next time his head proceeded to lift.

Pursing your lips together, in an attempt not to make a single sound, your feet slowly retreated from where you stood floundering in the midst of stormy seas. Backing away from his desk, until you turned on your heel and your palm made contact with the cold brass door handles. Thomas made no effort to stop you, no attempt to speak up and rectify the hurt he'd inflicted, and so you slinked away, before he could possibly catch sight of the first tear beginning it's agonizing trail down your cheek.

The guilt found Thomas nearly two hours later, as the last of midnight bled into the new morning's hours and it was a sensation not often known to him. Regret. And yet, as he found himself growing ever more tired and distracted from the work that never seemed to end, it washed over him like a tidal wave. Engulfing him in a notion he didn't often feel. Remorse for his actions.

Arrow House appeared deadly silent, as the hands on Tommy's pocket watch ticked closer and closer to the coming third hour of morning. The sky still void of light as the sun remained dormant beyond the blanket of deep indigo that enveloped the vast land, but there was a shift in the atmosphere that signaled the night before had long ago passed. That yesterday's mistakes were now today's regrets. The maids had all gone off to bed, not even Francis peeking in to check on the man of the house who confined himself to his poorly lit study. It felt as though Tommy was alone in the mansion, for the walls echoed with the ominous silence that contrasted from the quiet he'd known when all were simply slumbering. It was a dense void, the walls around him left with the remnants of his thrown words and anger fueled tone, making it echo around him as if the guilt didn't already torment his heavy mind.

Tommy's deep exhale was the only sound audible, as it reverberated around him. He'd long ago discarded his jacket, leaving him clothed in the white dress shirt he'd proceeded to unbutton a button or two on and the sleek black waist coat, that he was close to ripping off next. The sleeves of his shirt rolled furiously high, hanging just below the bend of his elbows and Tommy could feel the disheveled strands of his raven hair sweep against the flesh of his forehead. Reclining back in the chair he'd reached for an hour earlier, feeling the upholstery around his frame, his eyes fell aimlessly upon the trailing streak of smoke wafting upwards from his cigarette, that rested in the clear glass ash tray. It would be futile to attempt to count the amount of smokes he had lit in the matter of hours he'd been sheltered away in his study, the same being said for the whiskey that burned its way along his taste buds. But neither vice, felt stronger than the guilt that ate away at him.

It was an unnerving sensation, one in which made Tommy want to crawl right out of his very own flesh. He hated the notion of regret, as he'd tried all his life to live and make decisions as though the very emotion would never be a possibility. But here it was, calling out his name and torturing his conscious with all of the vengeance Tommy knew he rightfully deserved. Exhaling another sigh, melded of both exhaustion, exasperation and weight that made Tommy's broad shoulders slack, he slowly ran his hands down his face. Feeling the warmth of his palms slide against his tired flesh, pulling tightly until the skin bunched harsher in his grasp than it did in the bags low beneath his eyes. With one last sigh, Tommy's hands retreated and fell with a thump against the edge of his desk. Clutching the wood, he pushed himself back and out of his chair. Stubbing out his cigarette and turning off the lamp, before exiting the study that echoed relentlessly with the sound of his heavy mistakes.

Tommy was surprised to find you sleeping in your shared bedroom. The silhouette of your frame illuminated by the nearly imperceptible glow of the night, cocooned in the light ivory sheets as you laid on your side of the bed, nestled in a tight ball as your back faced the threshold Tommy found himself suddenly still within. For the entire time he made his way up the twisting staircase, listening to the echo of his footsteps fall heavily within the void of unsettling silence, he rather expected to find you locked away in one of the guest rooms. The bed you shared left cold and untouched by your hand, unable to stand the very thought of being in his presence much less the bed you shared, but as Tommy stepped into the bedroom and made his way through the doorway, he found his rough steps suddenly faltering. Coming to an abrupt halt before the tips of his shoes touched upon the carpet, as his eyes widened at the sight of you slumbering in the bed you'd awoken in that very morning.

Tommy lingered in the doorway for a moment, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers as his shoulder leaned against the doorframe. He knew you were awake, perhaps from the soft almost inaudible sound of your unsteady breaths, or perhaps, he could simply sense it. But he knew, as his eyes absorbed the sight of your bundled frame, even amidst the darkness that engulfed the bedroom walls, that you hadn't heard him enter. That was the sole reason Tommy lingered longer than he should have at the door, taking the opportunity to gaze upon you, something he realized he hadn't done in far too long. But it was as the soft sensations of your exhales grew heavier, the sound of your cries carrying along the stilled atmosphere, that Tommy pushed himself away from the doorframe.

You shifted not a fraction as Tommy entered the bedroom, his heavy steps landing upon the softened carpet with a strong conviction, as he circled around towards your side of the large king sized bed. But even if you had finally heard his presence, Tommy wasn't surprised by the way you made no effort to acknowledge him. Tommy moved through the shadows, knowing every inch of the bedroom that even as his eyes adjusted to the density of the dark, he stumbled not a single step as he soon stood beside you. He could see your consciousness now, the soft flutter of your tear soaked lashes brushing along the silk of your pillowcase, along with the nearly undetectable tensing of your body as he came into your line of vision. But Tommy made no attempt to speak, no effort to address his sudden presence in front of you now, with gentle ease.

Instead, Tommy simply bent down until his hands clutched the sheets pulled up around your neck, and swiftly peeled them off of you. The air suddenly cold as it washed over your flesh in an abrupt burst, but it was soon replaced with the distinct heat of Tommy's touch as his fingers curled around your arms. Gripping you firmly enough to move you with his own strength, but cautious enough that the only evidence of his tight grasp, would linger beneath your flesh once his hands retreated from their hold.

You strived to fight him, Tommy observed with the softest emotion of amusement, as you twisted in his hands that pulled you from the bed. Moaning and cursing softly under your breath, objecting to leaving the comfort and warmth of the bed, wanting anything but to be in the confines of his arms in that very moment. But soon Tommy had you stood up steady on your own two feet and pulled away from the empty bed. Coiled carefully in his arms beside the wide stretch of windows overlooking the land, the thick curtains tied back, letting in the softest beam of the night's pale pearl glow. Even without a moon to be seen, something amidst the night still shined a softened hue upon your adjoined frames.

Tommy wasn't the most affectionate man, he rarely presented you with grand gestures or even the smallest semblances of romance, but these little moments of intimacy that were untouched by the burning caress of pure lust, was Tommy in a different light. For it wasn't the first night Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his palms against the small of your back as he pulled your body closer to his own, and danced with you. Swaying back and forth, as a record played delicately in the background, but tonight, not a single harmony was hummed. The house fell silent, the air trailing along an overwhelming void that you could feel in the core of your chest and yet, Tommy still attempted to dance with you ever so slowly, beneath the nonexistent cast of moonlight as the clock ticked long after three in the morning.

It took everything inside of yourself in that moment, not to simply melt away into his touch. For it would've been easy, letting him embrace you with a tenderness and warmth that you craved more than he showed you in this lifetime, but the echo of his words thrown at you hours ago in the cavern of your memories, made the restraint possible.

Tommy stared down at you, knowing as your own sight looked to the left and aimlessly out the windows at the lingering darkness, that you weren't going to look at him unless his fingers reached out and forced you. And so, that's what he did. His right hand retracting from your waist, fingers gliding across your cheek as the soft pad of his thumb brushed away a trail of hot tears, and he tilted your head upwards with a simple curve of his wrist. There was no hiding now, you were exposed beneath the all-consuming scrutiny of his icy cerulean gaze, and you felt as though you were drowning all over again. Unable to breathe, struggling silently inside yourself as if you thrashed through the waves his irises flooded you with.

Tommy's thumb trailed along your flesh, absorbing the salt of your tears with the warmth of his touch, and with a deep exhale, his lips twitched with words balancing on the tip of his tongue. The words were never easy for Thomas Shelby to say, they hardly ever left his lips, but witnessing the palest cast of light dance along the slickened path of tears, that he knew he was the sole cause of, for you he would say them.

"I'm a fucking arse."

Tommy's voice, although low and nearly hushed to a whisper, boomed throughout the bedroom atmosphere. Rattling the heavy silence that had settled, and he watched as your stare slipped downwards even as his hand held your face level with his gaze, looking away as you mumbled through a thickening lump in the base of your throat.

"I can think a whole bloody lot of things you are, Thomas Shelby."

Tommy couldn't help the way the corners of his lips twitched at your irritated reply, and nodded softly in agreement, as a low grunt rumbled up from the base of his chest. "I deserve that. You can call me each and every one of 'em if you damn well please, I won't try to stop you."

You weren't sure why it was those words, floating past his parted lips along the breath of a warm and whiskey infused tone, that prompted you to peer up through your heavy lashes. Returning your gaze upon Tommy's unwavering blue eyed scrutiny, by your own volition this time. You stared up at the man who seemed entirely different than the one who had cursed you out of his study only hours ago, and even as you had a hundred different things you wished to hurl at him as he had so freely before, wanting to hurt him the way his words had inflicted your own heart, you didn't. Perhaps, you loved him too much or maybe, as you peered up at Tommy through your tearful gaze, you simply forgot all of the names that had rolled through your brain. Coming up with only one, one that when it fell from your lips and touched upon his ears, just sounded right.

"Do you really wish me to be the silent wife, Tommy?"

Your voice was the frailest it had ever been, on the very verge of shattering as it tentatively traveled through the short space and hit Tommy's ear with a painful blow. He could hear the clear waver in your voice, the shake in your tone that threatened to break, peering up at him with an emotion that even in the darkness, consumed your irises with an expression that could practically combust you where you stood. Your vulnerability was raw, painfully so, as though you were merely a wound awaiting to see if Tommy's answer were to be the agonizing salt or the soothing balm to your burn.

Tommy's breath danced delicately against the flesh of your face, fanning a soft chill across the streaks of dried tears that tightened your skin like paper mache. He certainly hadn't forgotten the way he'd spoken to you, taking the frustration that consumed him out on the one person who hadn't a single hand in the turmoil and yet, now as he listened to your heartbreaking inquiry, he'd begun to forget just what exactly he'd said in the heat of the moment. The familiar tidal wave of heavy regret crashing over him once again, as his head lowered barely an inch and a deep exhale blew from his lips.

"No, you'd be bloody boring if you were and besides," Tommy shook his head as he kept his eye contact locked within your own fragile gaze. "if I married a woman who never spoke her mind or challenged me from time to time, it wouldn't 'ave been you, yeah?"

Although his words were honest, Tommy could see the way they did very little to heal the ache he'd inflicted upon you. For your eyes continued to peer up at him with the sheen of fresh tears, glistening your orbs with a sense of vulnerability that made him feel uneasy. And so, with another heavy sigh falling from his lips and wafting warmly across your tear stricken expression, Tommy's hand that cradled your cheek tightened. His knuckles falling to lift your chin, forcing it to remain still, as his icy blue eyes stared intently into your own. Feeling the overwhelming chill and unnerving comfort of his strong blues consume you, as though the current of a river through your entire chest.

"Look," Tommy's expression was stern and intense, as if he could force you to believe the sincerity of what it was he had to say, all through the determination of his strong stare. His eyebrows arched softly, bunching the flesh of his forehead in faint creases, as his eyes swayed back and forth ever so faintly, to ensure that he stared into both of your wide and awaiting eyes. "I know I shouldn't and it's fucking selfish of me to, but I need you. I need you more than I'd ever wish to need another person, but I do. And it's you, alright? And that isn't changing."

"I know I'm a fucking bastard to put up with, it isn't pretty all of the time, it isn't easy being with a man like me, but I need you. Even when I push you away sometimes."

You peered up at him through the sheen of your tears, as the palest hint of light illuminated his face. And for a split second, you wondered if perhaps another soul had suddenly inhabited his body. For never once, through the years in Small Heath to your marriage here in Warwickshire, had Thomas Shelby ever ventured to speak those words aloud to you. They were words you needed, you realized as soon as they hit your ears in the soft tone of his low rumbling admission. For there were many times in which you found yourself pondering just how much he truly needed you, if he'd really miss you if you up and left one day, but here they were. Ringing clear and true before you now, saturated in the lulling sound of his deep Birmingham infused tone.

A breath escaped your lips, trailing along the tone of a lighthearted laugh that trickled into the air in a breathless puff of air. "Lord help me," You mused beneath your breath in the only semblance of a whisper you had within yourself, as your hand lifted from your side where his tightly coiled arms nearly had you pinned and didn't stop until you felt the warmth of Tommy's flesh beneath your palm. His skin smooth and clean shaven, as only the lines of stress beyond his years and evidence of sleep gone by, impacted the surface of his chiseled expression. Staring deeply into his eyes of blue that pulled you in like a riptide, time after time, caught up in his current and power but like each time before, you didn't struggle.

Feeling the edges of your lips curl upwards around the sound of your breathless exhale, you peered up at Tommy through your lashes that still fluttered with the weight from the moisture of your tears, but the new tears that glistened your sight, beamed from a different part of your beating heart. Rubbing your thumb back and forth against Tommy's cheekbone, as though the gentle flutter of a butterfly's wings, you smiled further as his arms tightened around your waist. His right hand having fallen back down to join the other, clasping together in order to lock you in his steady hold. His fingers pressed firmly against the small of your back, the heat of his touch searing through the soft lavender silk of your nightgown that flowed down your frame. Burning through the thin material as though it wasn't even there to begin with.

"I love you, Tommy Shelby." You whispered, letting your words flutter into the atmosphere of the bedroom, only to be grasped by the close proximity of Tommy's listening ears. Absorbing your words before they could even reach the windowpane and taking a single step forward, closing the last pace keeping you apart, Tommy kissed you. He didn't ask you if he could, perhaps, there was no need. For he knew just as much as you did, in that very instance, that you needed that kiss more than anything else.

You loved him, more than you should have, but you did. You loved him more than you knew what was good for you, more than what you knew was good for your very soul, that surely needed saving after being tainted by the touch of his hands, but you did. Without fault, without penitence, without a shred of doubt in your heart, you loved Tommy Shelby. And what you were certain of, was the fact that there was nothing that the man could ever say, ever do, ever throw your way, that would ever cease your heart from loving him.

A/N: Ahh!! This has been one of my favorite ideas I've had tucked away for sometime now, putting it aside until I knew I could sit down and write it with the justice, the love, the dedication that it deserved, and now, reading it as a completed piece, I can't even express the amount of pride is just bursting from my heart!!😭😍❤

I absolutely loved this idea when it hit me, the dialogue coming to me first as I wanted to create a piece that touched upon the tension in a marriage to Tommy Shelby and the side of him that is cold and dismissive and insensitive. But ultimately knowing, that he would coil back in the end and make amends in the way that Tommy can.

I am so beyond proud of this piece, from the dialogue and the emotion I really tried to weave into every bit of this one, to the descriptions and moments of trying to capture Tommy's expressions and distinct mannerisms. I worked very hard on those, because points in the scene were so vivid in my mind, the way his face and his eyes and his brows react when he's speaking in that very distinct voice of composure and calm and somewhat condescending tone, that at times, is more intimidating than if he were raising his voice, and I really tried to make it apparent on the page as it was in my head!! I am so happy with what I have created with this piece, and can only hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it and love reading it now that it's completed!❤